Gemotions

The cursor on the laptop screen seemed to throb, a sickly green pulse against the stark white of the real estate listing. Amelia stared, heart thudding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She hadn't visited the town in years, not since... well, not since everything. The photos, pristine and sunny, showed a house she barely recognized. The vibrant rose bushes, her mother's pride, were gone.

Her breath hitched. She scrolled through the pictures again, each one a fresh jab. The living room, once filled with the scent of cinnamon and her father's pipe tobacco, now sported a minimalist aesthetic that felt cold and unfamiliar. She bit down on her lip, a nervous habit she hadn't realized she still possessed. The idea of strangers inside, touching the things that had shaped her, was a heavy stone in her stomach.